Five days later.
The inn had a fair amount of food stocked up. Otherwise, what kind of inn would only offer lodging and not meals?
In these past few days, Shirou hadn't encountered a single monster near the inn.
Rather than say there were no monsters, it was more accurate to say—even wild animals were nowhere to be seen.
The entire forest felt dead. Apart from the occasional cry of distant birds, there was no sign of life at all.
Maybe the inn had been built in such a remote location that no one ever came this way.
Shirou had hoped that by staying here for a few days, he might come across someone he could talk to—ask where exactly he was.
In the meantime, he spent his time diligently practicing his [ReinforcementMagecraft]—and revisiting the [Projection Magecraft] he had long neglected.
Though most of the objects he projected were little more than crude imitations, he noticed something strange: when it came to projecting weapons like swords or blades, the mana cost, projection speed, and quality were all significantly higher than with other objects.
Some of the blades he projected even had the feel and weight of real swords—no longer just ornamental replicas that shattered at a touch, good only for scaring off people who didn't know better.
To most mages who understood [Projection Magecraft], this kind of spell was little more than a parlor trick. Maybe something useful if you forgot your cup while pouring water.
But Shirou's training had been too short. At best, he could barely recreate a sword at its original quality.
Most of the time, they were still subpar.
Maybe I can analyze the item first before I try projecting it.
That thought came to him on his final day at the inn.
But after staying here for so long, it was time to leave.
If he could find a safe place—or make it back to Fuyuki—he'd continue training his [Projection Magecraft] there.
As for the door that brought him here, no matter how much he examined the wall it appeared from, all he could tell was that it was made of wood. Nothing unusual.
Now that his injuries were mostly healed, there was no point sitting around. He had to take action.
Using what materials he could find, Shirou stitched together a small backpack and filled it with food and water. He fastened the two katanas at his sides.
Let's hope that monster was the only one… If so, maybe the people here can go back to living in peace.
He prayed—not for his own safety, but that no more innocent people would be killed.
If monsters did still exist… he hoped he could stop them before they killed again.
Because those are real lives.
The thought made his hands clench into fists. He couldn't tolerate creatures that murdered so callously.
Guess I'll pick a direction and go. Hopefully I'll find someone before I run out of food.
With the sun rising slowly in the east, Shirou slung on his pack and set off along the river.
Daytime was, of course, safer for travel. He wasn't some dark creature that gained strength at night.
If anything, humans suffered debuffs in the dark. Most people would agree that setting out at 9 a.m. and arriving by 2 p.m. was far preferable to leaving at 9 p.m. and arriving at 2 a.m.
And following a river made it easier to find where people lived.
Soon enough, low wooden houses began appearing beside the path, scattered unevenly on either side. Not even half a day's walk had passed when he spotted what looked like a modest village.
The village wasn't surrounded by forest like the inn was. Thanks to the calm bend in the river, the land around it had been cleared for rice paddies.
He could see farmers working in the fields.
Shirou exhaled in relief—finally, signs of normal life.
But alongside the relief came confusion.
From how quickly he'd reached the village, it was clear the inn wasn't far.
And there had once been many travelers at that inn.
By that logic, there should've been a regular flow of people between here and there. Yet he'd stayed in the inn for five days without seeing a single soul.
The thought lingered only for a moment. Then Shirou let it go.
Even if he knew why no one went to the inn, what would it change?
In fact, fewer people living in the deep mountains meant fewer victims if a monster showed up again.
More importantly—he needed to figure out where he was.
"Excuse me, do you know where Fuyuki City is?"
"Eh? What city? Say that again?"
The old man tilling the field squinted up at him. His hearing wasn't great, and he shuffled over with furrowed brows.
Shirou instinctively stepped back, startled by the man's hulking frame.
"I was wondering… do you know where Fuyuki City is?"
"Fuyuki? Never heard of it!"
"Try following this road to the next town. Someone there might know."
The man scratched his ear and bellowed back his reply.
"A town, huh…"
Shirou felt his hope of getting back to Fuyuki dwindle.
The way these villagers lived—their speech, their homes—
Everything about them screamed an earlier era.
In modern Japan, TVs and cellphones were household essentials. You couldn't communicate with the outside world without them.
But here? Not even a trace of them.
And their clothing—the difference between modern and traditional garb was stark.
At first, Shirou thought this was some remote, off-the-grid mountain village.
But based on the old man's answer, this place was connected to the outside world.
Which made things even stranger. If they were in touch with modern society, why was everything so outdated?
Something's not right.
"It's getting late. Probably not safe to travel now. Want to stay in the village tonight and head out in the morning?"
The old man noticed Shirou's hesitation and assumed he was worried about traveling after sundown.